


chop the wood and light the fire, ‘tis not much that i require

by BinchJuice



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: But in the end, also the bulk of this is the woodsman and the beast, beast wirt that, beast wirt this, but teeeeechnically wirt and the woodsman's daughter speak, but thiiiiink about it..., don’t get me wrong, everyone’s always, hes not the one who blew out the lantern light, i LOVE beast wirt, so it felt disingenuous to list them as mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinchJuice/pseuds/BinchJuice
Summary: Time is nonlinear in the unknown. But all iterations of this world come to pass eventually, some place, some time. There’s not always a clear beginning or middle or end, only sprawling stories strewn across the annals of history. Nothing in The Unknown exemplifies this more than The Beast.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	chop the wood and light the fire, ‘tis not much that i require

_“Pilgrim, he who carries The Dark Lantern_ must _be The Beast!”_

~~~

In one iteration of the world, there’s The Beast. Time is nonlinear so his existence is in the past, yet the present, but also the future. The only constant is the inherent danger of The Unknown. Mothers tell their daughters not to wander into the woods. Fathers tell their sons not to go out in the night. 

Everyone tells each other that if they have to go, that they shouldn't go alone.

Seasons pass, from the growing chill of autumn, into the cold dread of winter, into the thawing breeze of spring; when people finally leave their homes to try and find their missing and weep over the new edelwoods when finally they give up. This slowly bleeds into summer. The calm, pale sunlight is the only light the grieving people of The Unknown have. But no matter how warm it is, the forest is never to be trusted.

~~~ 

In another iteration of the world is The Woodsman and his Daughter. And then it is simply The Woodsman, and this change renders The Woodsman senseless and he breaks every rule a parent tells their child, every rule he used to tell _his_ child.

He wanders into the woods. It is a summer night and the full moon floats overhead, and of course, The Woodsman is alone when he goes. He calls his daughter's name deep into the clear night. He screams it until his voice is hoarse and his throat is raw. He walks until he can’t walk anymore. Still, he dare not lose hope.

~~~

_“The Beast is a curious creature, the nature and origin of which have been long disputed between the witches of The Unknown. Some say they remember a time before he was called The Beast, others dismiss this as preposterous. Some say he might’ve once been human, and everyone shudders. After all, if The Beast was once human, then anyone could become one in his place…”_

~~~

The Woodsman is strange. He’s familiar in that he’s hopelessly lost, just like all those who came before him, but he has a stubborn determination about him. However, The Lantern grows dim, and The Beast’s soul _hungers_. It eats holes into and through his very essence, and though The Woodsman isn’t ready to become part of His Dark Forest, his axe looks handy.

So, late at night, when the shadows cloak the trees and The Woodsman’s throat is parched, The Beast approaches him and shows The Woodsman yet another iteration of their weary, tired world.

In this iteration, there is The Woodsman’s daughter. Her mousy brown hair is greasy and scraggly. Her clothes are torn and small scratches litter the bare patches of skin. Yet the worst thing about this vision are the branches that twine around her. The Woodsman lets out a strangled cry and lurches forward, pulling at the branches.

The Beast tips his head, his wide eyes glowing brighter and every tree branch shivering in unison. _Yes, yessss, cry over this lost soul._ When he steps forward, he fights not to chuckle at the wretched sobbing that wracks this man's back. “Hello.”

The Woodsman reels back, scrambling for his axe. “St-stay back, beast!”

“ _The Beast_ , if you please, and I wouldn’t be so hasty, Woodsman. After all… I have a proposition for you.”

There was never an explicit warning against talking to The Beast. Maybe there should have been, words never spoken help no one at all.

~~~

In another iteration, two boys and a frog find themselves lost among the endless sea of trees. This story isn’t about them.

~~~ 

_“Everyone’s got a torch to burn, and this here’s mine. I grind the horrid edelwood trees into oil to keep this lantern lit! It is my burden to bear!”_

~~~

“Here, Woodsman.” The boy holds out The Lantern. “I’ve got my own problems to take care of.” _And this one’s yours_ , The Woodsman recounts.

His voice shakes when he turns back to The Beast. “She was never in The Lantern, was she, Beast?” The shadows creep around him, pressing in as The Beast leans forward. The tree branches almost seem to shiver in unison.

“Listen, Woodsman. _Listen_ to me.” Tendrils float from The Beast, his voice layering until every Beast from every iteration speaks at once. There is something familiar in that moment. More familiar than the devil on his shoulder. Something akin to a…

“You see, Woodsman? All who perish here will become trees for the lantern. Cut them down with your axe. Go! Now!”

“No!” The Woodsman snarls, yanking the small door on the lantern wide open. His hand only shakes a little when he hears The Beast growl from somewhere in front of him. He swings The Lantern in what his wife would’ve called a piss-poor defense and what he sees… Oh God, what he _sees._

“ _Stop!_ ” The Beast’s voice raises in the closest thing he can muster to a scream, and he steps out of the light of his soul. “You’ll never see your daughter again, Woodsman! Are you really ready to go back to that empty house?”

Before he can think too hard on what he’s about to do, The Woodsman leans forward.

“ _No! **Woodsman!**_ ”

~~~

_“The Beast is immortal, any witch worth their salt knows that. They also know they do not possess the same quality, leading some to try and gain an alliance with this horrid creature. But no one ever wonders about the nature of his long life. No one ever thinks about The Beast beyond his mournful melody. So what happens when you kill The Beast? Is such a thing possible?”_

~~~

The Woodsman, now devoid of hope, sits on his porch, startling when he sees the door open in his periphery.

“Father?”

The Woodsman is a proud man, and he cries.

So the story is complete, and everyone is satisfied with the ending. And so on and so forth and yet—

Time is nonlinear in the unknown. But all iterations of this world come to pass eventually, some place, some time. There’s not always a clear beginning or middle or end, only sprawling stories strewn across the annals of history. Nothing in The Unknown exemplifies this more than The Beast.

Some witches say they remember a time before The Beast had gained his epithet, some say once The Beast was human, all say he’s immortal. Any witch worth their salt knows that.

Allow me to show you one final iteration. One final vignette. After all, time is nonlinear, but every iteration happens. Every. Single. One. 

Once there was a Woodsman and his Daughter, then there was just the Woodsman. And then this happened again. Except, one vital difference.

There was something familiar in The Beast’s voice. Something akin to a mirror.

~~~

 _“You’re turning her into an edelwood tree! You_ were _The Beast all along!”_


End file.
